Just a Touch Revised
by Miss Aisling
Summary: First written February 2004


Just a Touch This was first written Februart 2004. I still, really like it though.  
I hope you like it too You know what I don't own oO  
Beta tested by Dearbháile, who deserves lots of chocolate for it.  
-  
As I walked down the seemingly endless street, I saw him walking towards me. His cold, steely gaze settled firmly ahead of him. His emotionless face, his cruel nonchalant attitude! I hated him and his uncaring persona. Or was it hate?  
I had often caught him staring at me; we seemed to run into each other all the time. Those sapphire-blue eyes would penetrate mine momentarily before they were averted. Those eyes would make me feel as though I were naked, like his eyes could see through lead if he wished them.

I came to the surface of my thoughts, noticing he was mere feet from me. As he walked past me, he brushed against my shoulder. I froze instantly, paralysed. My thoughts reeled as I tried to move but my body was not listening to me.  
He must have noticed my abrupt halt because he turned and laid a hand on my shoulder.

Suddenly I was hurled into a field of electricity. I felt my heart leap to be free of my chest as faint words rang in my ears.  
"Are you okay?" Are you okay... the sweetest words I have ever heard spoken! Did he know a simple touch of his hand could cause so much agony? Did he know how deep his words could travel?  
But what am I saying, he hates me. His eyes scream it and his tongue is a proverbial whip that seems to lash me at any given opportunity. Or does he hate me?  
He has never said so. His insults, though hurtful, are almost playful. He seems so exuberant when he talks to me, more than when he talks to anyone else. And there I go again with those thoughts…

Shaking my head, I turn it towards him. There they are, those eyes. Those cold, uncaring, heartless… But wait, what was that I saw! A spark of something new, something foreign to those eyes. Something that could loosely be described as happiness?  
No, it must have been my imagination. My rotten, deceiving imagination had betrayed me. Yes that must have been it.  
"I said, are you okay?" His words did not sound so distant this time. What do I say to that? Do I lie and say yes, or do I say no and have him bombard me with his unconcerned inquiries. Or was he concerned?  
Did he really care how I was? Was I on his mind as much as he was on mine?  
I tried to search his face for sincerity but found nothing. No trace of emotion, no flash of something in his eye, just cold indifference.

But then again, why was I analyzing him so much? How could someone who made me feel so miserable make me feel like this as well? Do I like him?  
Do I love him?  
Love, to me, was a relative term. It had no real depth or meaning, until recently.  
Since then that word had echoed through my mind like a broken record. It now seemed to encompass me, engulf my very being and bring him with it.

Is this love? Is love supposed to feel like you have been pushed off a cliff and there is no ground to catch you. Like there is nothing around you but intense pressure. Like the walls are closing in on you and there is nothing you can do but brace yourself. Was this love?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" "What?" I heard myself say dreamily. And soon I find myself plummeting towards reality.  
Oh why did I have to say that? Why couldn't 'I' be careless and nonchalant towards 'him'? Why was I so haunted by his presence, when he seemed so undisturbed by mine?  
"You are a strange girl!" I heard him say. He smiled at me warmly before removing his hand and walking away.

He smiled at me. He smiled, at me! Did this mean that he doesn't hate me? Or was he teasing me.  
I am so confused at this moment, I can hardly think any thoughts at all. And yet, I still think of him.  
Does he know how much a simple touch can cause? A careless touch! Or was it careless?  
Something so simple can also be so complicated. So meaningless, and yet so meaningful! I think that touch is what pushed me off the cliff.Remember, feedback is the crux of writing.

: ) Aísling a.k.a. Lingy ( :  
"Imagination is the mother of creation." --Anon 


End file.
